


You are Fairest

by winchilsea



Category: Snow White and the Huntsman (2012)
Genre: Gen, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-15
Updated: 2012-06-15
Packaged: 2017-11-07 18:42:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/434198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winchilsea/pseuds/winchilsea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The mirror stays on the wall. "I am Snow White. I am Queen."</p>
            </blockquote>





	You are Fairest

 

She says her prayers every morning, clutching her makeshift dolls as though the sheer force will make them real, will bring back the people they represent.

 

 

Her life is a cycle of darkness: it's just a matter of shading.

 

 

Sometimes, she wonders if her life _before_ is all a dream. Those days, she prays harder.

 

 

"You're very pretty," she remembers saying. Or perhaps it was _beautiful_ instead of pretty. It doesn't matter now, in this cell, but the sentiment remains. She remembers saying it and if she remembers how to laugh, how to let her voice free in this prison, she would. _Oh,_ she thinks, _you were very pretty even when stealing everything I had._

 

 

Then she chides herself. It's not stealing—Ravenna is Queen.

 

 

She clings to the memory of her mother, her father, William. William, riding away from the castle and leaving her behind. The thought comes without resentment, the careful neutrality of concession and resignation.

 

 

 _How old am I?_ she asks herself. How many suns have fallen, how many moons have died?

 

 

Every night before crawling on her cot she tells herself, "I am Snow White. I am Princess. I should be Queen." Her voice is a breathy whisper, but somehow the dark stones echo her anyway.

 

 

_"You are Snow White. You are Princess. You aren't Queen."_

_  
_

 

Dull monotony. Every day is the same, only her dreams are different. She dreams of her father's gentle touch, her mother's smiles, the wild days running after William. Perhaps this is the dream and those reality.

 

 

But she knows better. There are magpies here and none in her dreams.

 

 

 _Freedom_ , her blood sings. _Freedom_. (And then—then it clamorslike shards of glass, _retribution_.)

 

 

They all tell her she is life, she is pure, she is fairest of them all. She sends her gaze down, lashes casting dark shadows against her white skin. An ugliness builds inside of her—she wants vengeance, wants freedom, wants reclamation.

 

 

By fairest blood done and fairest blood undone.

 

 

Ravenna had been fairest once. Now it is Snow White. Ravenna had wanted a kingdom, safety. What does Snow White want, if not her kingdom and safety?

 

 

The mirror stays on the wall. "I am Snow White. I am Queen."

 

 

(And there might be a voice that returns, "You are Snow White. You are Fairest.")

 

 

 


End file.
